A-drin Amy

At the beginning of the week I talked about my promiscuous tree, so let's get back to the theme of sluts and hookers and talk about Adrian, MN.

I kid.  I'm sure the residents there are lovely.  It's just that growing up 12 miles away in Luverne led to a high level of competitiveness and judgement of the girls down Interstate 90. They wore more make-up, were pretty and just too close to our dating pool.

Back then, we didn't know how to handle that inexplicable hormonal urge for teenage drama so we took it to the streets. 30 miles the opposite direction on Interstate 90 to the streets of Sioux Falls, SD.  When we'd cruise the loop on a crisp Su Fu fall evening yelling cat calls out the car window at pubescent Midwest lookers, we had many a conversation that went something like this:

Leah McMinor:  Hey Baby!  You lookin' for a good time? <insert chest shimmy-shake>

Freddy McFarmboy:  You know it! <Not watching the traffic ahead of him on 10th Street>

Leah McMinor:  Stop by sometime.  We're from Adrian! <Speed away in red Lumina>

Now that we have besmirched the character of my friends and I, back to the topic at hand.  Dear friend Amy grew up in Luverne, went to college in Minneapolis, then moved to Denver. There she met and fell in love with a man who grew up in...

You guessed it. Adrian.  Her wedding was this past September.

Before the wedding was a rockin' bachelorette party.  I wanted to make something 'special' for that festivity that melded the awesomeness of Amy's Luverne youth with the realization that she was joining Team Adrian. Considering Amy worked the pompoms in high school, the best I could think of was a risque vintage 1998 Adrian Dragons cheer uniform.

Unfortunately, and quite obviously, I had not fostered a relationship with any Adrian Dragons from my girlhood. Not even a facebook friend. I had to scour Amy's friend list just to see if there were any names I recognized. Recognized from Leah McMinor hooting them out the window at Freddy.

Luckily, some of those beautiful Adrian souls helped me out with this senior picture:

and this yearbook picture:

Shiza. What do they call that formation?!  The Come and Get It?  The Spread Em? The Crotc--Oh Goodness me.  I'm so sorry.  It is so hard to turn it off sometimes. 

I got to work sewing something similar to what is shown above except with a lower neckline, more sequins, and a more curve hugging fabric.

The photo above was from my roadblock point.  I was frustrated and leery of my next step.  So I spoke out loud:

Please forgive me for all those horrible jokes I made about Adrian hussies, their hair, and Freddy McFarmboy's Buick.  I was just a jealous and vulgar teenager.  I'm not sorry for what I said about their volleyball skills though because that was more of a fact, that much hairspray really does affect your game.  Oh, and that one girl's prom dress when she went in Luverne with Bobby McQuarterback really was something that a streetwalker would wear.  Well, not by today's standards, but back then that comment was in good faith.  Also, I just wanted to say that I am very grateful that I went to high school in a time before social media.  Now, Sweet Big Cheese above, please let me get this slutty uni done right. A to the men. 

Stars aligned.  I sewed.  Seams came together.  And after receiving some canary bunhuggers and a set of royal and yellow pompoms in the mail, the sassy cheer ensemble was near complete.  It just needed one spunky, always-a-Luverne-Cardinal-on-the-inside, super-toned-from-Insanity-workouts cheer champion.

Let me tell you, she owned it.  Owned it like Freddy McFarmboy now owns a hog barn, two combines and a manure spreader.

As for me, I really do have nothing but love for the Adrian community.  The wedding there was beautiful and I truly do hope to build some A-drin friendships in the near future.  I can not promise to stop talking smack though. Same goes for you Pipestone, Beaver Creek and any other town in a 30-mile radius of Luverne.